


Letter to the World

by Haden_Lopez



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fiction, Historical, Homophobia, Male Homosexuality, Nazis, References to Hitler, World War I, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 17:23:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16580819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haden_Lopez/pseuds/Haden_Lopez
Summary: A letter to the world from the perspective of a homosexual boy the horrible tales of the Labor/Extermination Camp Auschwitz--Birkenau





	Letter to the World

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not read if this might be triggering. This was an assignment for my English class

I want to start off with saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I ignored everything that happened to all the others. I’m sorry that I did nothing even after I found out. I’m sorry that I didn't help even though I was there with them. But most of all I’m sorry that I hid my true self. 

I’m a patient man. I’m a generous man. I’m a courageous man. I’m a smart man. All I ever wanted was to be myself and have an education. Education mattered in my family. My father paid for a private tutor to teach me just like other boys had. 

I had a warm home. I had a safe home. I had a happy home. The home I lived in. The feeling of love surrounded us. It was our bubble. In this bubble nothing bad would ever happen. No one else mattered. 

Maybe this is where all my problems started. This is where I cared for nothing but myself. To keep me and my family safe was all that I wanted. Who cares about everyone else? I surely didn’t. That’s where my problems started. 

Because if I cared to do something when all of this started in April 1938, I wouldn't be in the mess I am today. There wouldn’t have been as many deaths. There wouldn’t be as many people broken after this trauma. I can still see the house I lived in, still see my two younger brothers chasing each other with sticks in the backyard. The grass a bright green in the spring afternoon sun shining high in the sky. My two older sisters helping out our mother in the kitchen. The smell of Maultaschen cooking, my father’s favorite because of the noodle being stuffed with meat, spinach, spices, and onions. My little sister playing the piano and humming the familiar tune of the lullaby our mother would sing to us as children. My parents eldest, my brother, sipping on the imported tea my father had recently bought and doing paperwork to help our father. I would have soon been doing that. Filling out paperwork while my father and brother went to meetings and worked. I enjoyed the sense of family. It was one of the best feelings I ever experienced. 

None of this would have happened.

It started out small. It always does. There were little things. Things like a person disappearing, or rights being taken from certain individuals, or people wearing a pink triangle then a few days later they are gone. You never think it will happen to you until it does. Just like the Jews. Who first started off with having a curfew, then a yellow triangle, and moving to the ghettos, and having their religion posted on every legal document to people beating them, of people destroying their houses, businesses, and places of religion. Finally being thrown into a labor or extermination camp where you would breathe your last breath. Just like the Jews you never think it will happen to you until it does. They finally reached my neighborhood. They went door to door to door. A different door every day. Sometimes the same door would be knocked on twice in the day. No one knew why they were here. Just to allow them to do their thing and all of us would be fine. But we weren’t. Were were scared. We were confused. We were angry. The SS officers had been there for two weeks now. And we still hadn’t been checked. No one ever knew when they were next until it was too late. 

I was next. 

It made sense that I would be taken away. That I would be found out. My brothers already had at least one girlfriend. But I. I had none. Girls never interested me. My sisters always pointed out cute girls for me to ask out. None ever caught my attention long enough. 

I had a friend. A friend I shared everything with. We were never apart for long. This was the problem. I was only close to one person. I only loved one person who wasn’t in my family. And that person was a boy. A boy just like me. A boy whose feelings should go to a girl. A boy who would never return my feelings. Who should never return my feelings. 

To this day I still wonder if he was captured or not. If he was did he escape? Or did he die at the hands of a monster? 

For me my life in the concentration camp was horrible. I. No We were segregated. We were humiliated. We were beaten. We were put to much harder work than others. We were forced to give up our bodies just for a little more bread and protection from other inmates. 

Others had a swift death. A death that hurt but came quickly. Or they worked in harsh conditions but got enough to eat and drink and sleep. They had each other. We had ourselves. A group of us could not find any protection. An individual could get an administration or clerical job. A young individual could trade sexual favors for extra food and shielding from inmates. Some individuals chose castration for a lower sentence. There was no security for any of us. None of us knew our fate. If we were going to die. When we were going to die. If we would still have the little protection we had fought for. If we were going to be used for experiments. If we were ever going to be free again. If we would see our family or lover or friends again. There was no assurance in our lives. We were all replaceable. Each and every one of us. One mistake could get us killed. But we were all dying. Dying a slow, painful death. Living on our toes. On the edges of our seats. Never knowing. 

People said we had a disease. An illness. And there must be a cure. A cure no one had yet. A cure like castration. But there were experiments to find other ways to cure us. These experiments would cause illnesses. Real illnesses. These experiments caused mutilations. They caused death. And yet none ever worked. We were a disease. A disease that had to be quarantined and isolated before it spread to others. Before it spread through all of the prisoners and soldiers until it reached everyone. And yet Kapos could still have guardianship of a homosexual and use him for sexual pleasure. Could keep him fed and sheltered against other captives. And the boy had to do as they were told otherwise they would be killed and replaced with another from the next transport. 

On September 7th, 1938 I was one of those who had to be grateful to the Kapo who gave me more food and safe from the ridicule and beatings. He could not save me from everything. He could not save me from the wrath of the guards. He could not save me from the deadly assignments given to me. He could not save me from my own thoughts. 

Thoughts of the days that led to me coming here and the day I arrived in Auschwitz-Birkenau. The dates are still prominent in my mind. July 23, 1938, the day I was found out and they shipping me off. And the day I arrived in Auschwitz August 11, 1938. I still remember the black smoke, the smell of burning bodies. The crematoriums. The initial beatings from the guards. The humiliation from others including the other inmates. The little food. The harsh work. The crying of children. The smell of death. The feeling of grief and sorrow of families being ripped apart. I saw too much. Too much sadness. Too much death. All at the age of sixteen. Such a young age to be ripped from your family and the life you knew, only to be held a captive in a camp where everyone hated you. Only to be held a captive in your mind. 

The Kapo that took me in was nice. And after thirty-one long days he started to tell me about all the horrible things that were happening outside of the camp. And when anyone asked him why he told me anything he would respond with “It bores him to death, & I like torturing him” then he would wink at me when no one could see. He kept me close to him & did his best to keep me out of trouble. Trouble had always followed me though. Many times an angry guard would see me and start beating me. There was nothing anyone could do unless they wished to suffer the same fate. 

My Kapo, Anselmo (divine protection), would tell me about how the Allied powers were doing nothing to save any of the prisoners, how they were ignorant to the fact Hitler was killing off so many people.   
.  
He told me about Kristallnacht on November 12th, 1938.

He told me about Jews having to give up all gold and silver on February 27th, 1939.

He told me about the US, Cuba, & other countries refusing to take in Jewish refugees in May 1939.

He told me about the non aggression pact between Germany and the Soviet Union on August 24th, 1939.

He told me about the Germans starting World War 2 in Europe on September 2nd, 1939.

He told me about Great Britain & France declaring war on Germany & how Warsaw is cut off from Germany on September 5th, 1939.

He told me about the Germans invading Denmark & Norway on April 15th, 1940.

He told me how Germany goes against the non aggression pact with the Soviets on June 25th, 1940.

He told me all of this and more. He told me so much of what was happening in the world. Enough for me to know just how bad the Allies were doing then how bad Hitler was doing. After listening to his account of world events for a few months I started separating Germany and Hitler. Before they were one and the same. Now Germany was a country of people who may or may not agree with their ruler. Hitler was the person who took over after he was elected. He became someone who only cared about power & a “master race” & himself. 

After all of this I still am in this camp. I need help. I need help from the Allies because no one in my home country, Poland, or in Germany will help. There are so many of us. So many that are still fighting, that still have hope. Hope for someone to save us. Yet here we still are. I’ve been here for three years and I want out. 

I want to see my family again. I want to see my mother doing her daily cleaning of the house starting at six and ending at noon so she can spend time with us. I want to see my younger brothers Hernando (adventurous) & Renard (bold/courageous) being scolded for making a mess of the house by roughhousing again. I want to see my older sisters Irma (warrior) & Evonna (Archer) gossiping as they do the chores that mother set them to do. I want to see father coming home and complaining to our mother about how horrible work was, and when she tells him to quit to help out around the house by watching us kids, he starts to protest saying work wasn't bad at all. I want to see my younger sister, Melisande (honey bee), learning piano and other instruments to impress her future husband. I want to see my older brother, Emest (serious), tease my sisters as they pass all the while trying to not let father see that he is drinking the tea he specifically told him not to. And lastly, I want to see my friend again. Anton (priceless, inestimable or praiseworthy) & I. Always us against the world, but since that horrific day it’s been me by myself & Anton by himself. I want to be able to share all my thoughts to him, & him comfort me through everything. I want him here to tell me that none of this was my fault. That I am perfect as I am. 

We all need saving because all these hopes & dreams will fade into distant memories. We need to be out of these cruel, grim conditions. Please if anyone gets this please rescue us. We are people just like you. Please free us.


End file.
